Burning Dandelions
by Soapbox Flyboy
Summary: Peeta Mellark survives to be the sole victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, but even as he endures the Capitol's "price" for victory, he must still confront the scars left by the girl on fire. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Burning Dandelions**

She squeezes my hand.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

And that's it. The berries pass both of ours lips, and the sweet taste fills my mouth. Soon it will all be over. I can't help but think of home, of all the days spent making baked goods that so little of the District could afford. I think of the girl who desperately tried to sell baby clothes for food, who went digging in our trash for food. I think of the heat in the bakery, the chilling rain outside, and I still wish I had gone out in the rain. That I had somehow gotten her more food. That I had said something to her the next day. But I didn't. And none of that matters now. All that matters is that she makes it out alive.

We both stand, each second agonizing. The forest is eerily quiet around us; nothing to disturb the remaining wildlife, and no reason for the Game Makers to add any new dangers to the arena…yet. _The sweet taste. _Still nothing. Maybe they do need a victor, but they can still ensure that only one of us survives, and that's what worries me. _The sweet taste. _Nightlock isn't sweet. The thought sticks in my mind, but before it fully registers, Katniss falls to the ground. "No," I barely recognize my own voice. Her beautiful face, the face that I wanted to protect more than anything in my life, is pale. The girl that I loved so dearly is fading away. "Katniss…no…why…" I can't think. I fumble for words as I try to come up with a solution, but it is already too late, and we both know that.

"Peeta." Her whisper is so quiet, and I know it will haunt me for the rest of my life. "Peeta, I had to," she whispers, "I couldn't let you die for me." I'm mortified. I swore to protect her, and now she's sacrificing herself for me. The girl on fire, who undertook the burden of caring for her whole family, who doesn't know the effect she has on people, who doesn't realize that she is more radiant than the sun, is slipping away, and I can't save her. I can't throw her a loaf of bread, I can't confess my love for her to the world, and I can't tell her to run away from the danger.

"Stay with me?" she pleads.

"Always," I tell her. I want to tell her that she shouldn't have done this. That I can't bear living without her, and that I would have gladly died in her place, but it's too late for that. Now, every word is precious, every moment is a lifetime. I'm squeezing her hand, willing warmth and life to flow from me into her, but her grip only grows feebler, and there is nothing I can do to stop the tears streaming down my face. "Katniss." My voice is even quieter than hers had been. I gently bring my fingers to her wrist, and my head is turned to rest just below her collar. Nothing. No pulse to push against my fingers. And the only sound I hear is the echo of a single, lone cannon shot.

Katniss Everdeen, the girl I will always love, is dead.

I scream. I'm vaguely aware of the hovercraft descending over us. One to collect me. One to collect her. _No_. I hug her tightly to my chest as I sob into her long, black hair, dark and comforting, but then there's a hint of gold. Her mockingjay pin. I fumble for it, pricking my finger, aware of the many cameras that must be pointed on me. But I can't put it in a pocket or fasten it to my shirt, they'll take it the moment I'm on the hovercraft, so I shove it in my mouth and pray that I won't accidentally swallow it.

A ladder is dropped down, and when I don't move to take it, I think they realize that I plan on laying there until the day that I die. Half a dozen men in white uniforms drop down and advance towards me. I know I must look pretty disturbing, covered in dirt and blood with a horribly pained expression in my eyes, and I'm clinging to what to them must be just another dead body. I stare at them, and they freeze for a moment before continuing towards me. One of them reaches down to pick her up, and I punch him as hard as I can. "You can't do this!" I'm screaming again, punching and kicking in every direction. "You killed her!" They're slowly separating us. No matter how hard I fight against them, they pull us away inch by inch. The fatigue of the past week pulls on me just as strongly as they do, but I can never give up. Giving up would mean giving her up, and I cannot, will not do that. I won't lose her. I have the strength to free myself one last time, and I get one last glimpse of the girl on fire. Her hair is still in that braid, she's still the beautiful love of my life, but the fire in her eyes is gone, replaced with a cold, barren glaze. And that's what gets me in the end. That's when I can't fight anymore. She's gone.

I go limp, and we're quickly carried away. I close my eyes, and all I can see is that last view of her perfect face, and then I succumb to sheer exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Peeta…"_ _She's calling out to me. I can see her, she's right across the lake, waving and smiling. Then she's there, right in front of me, eyes as bright as ever. The light of the setting sun reflects off of her glowing skin, lighting up the forest around us. Maybe we're still in the arena, maybe we're back home and I went with her into the woods, either way it wouldn't matter, I know this can't be real. I gingerly reach out to her, it _can't_ be real. But then she grabs my hand, bringing it up to touch the side of her face. "See? Real." And she's right. _She's real, she's there, everything's okay.

"_Katniss," I try to begin, but what could I possibly say? How can you describe everything in your life leaving, then suddenly coming back to you? But, of course, she knows me. She smiles and shakes her head, she knows that I can't possibly explain how happy I am to see her, how much I care about her. She moves next to me, her head resting on my shoulder as she plays with my blonde curls. "Don't leave again, okay?" I can barely manage to whisper that._

"_Mm" is the only reply I get. She's distracted playing with my hair, but then I think she realizes my distress when she moves up to kiss me. Except she doesn't._

"You killed me."

_No. She couldn't have said that. She's laughing. I can't breathe. Her skin is on fire now, her eyes are blindingly bright. I killed her. I could've stopped her from eating the berries in her hand. I could've double checked to make sure they weren't nightlock. Oh God…or what if it hadn't been on purpose? What if she had meant to give me nightlock, too, and she had just made a mistake? I'm holding my hands to my ears to shut out her laughter, I'm trying to keep my eyes shut to hide from the blinding light, but I can't. She's everywhere. I can't escape the fact that her death was completely my fault. I killed Katniss Everdeen._

I wake up covered in sweat. I'm shaking, and my ears are ringing. The first thing I notice is the sharp smell of antiseptic. By now I thought I would be used to the industrial scents of the Capitol, especially after all of the chemical baths Portia put me through, but this was different. The chemical baths were strongly scented so that they weren't as harshly invasive, and while I disliked the imitation smells of roses and vanilla, which smelled nothing like the real things, they were infinitely preferable to whatever this new stench was.

Then there was the terrible, metallic taste in my mouth. I push my tongue against the lump in the side of my mouth, and it's still there. I didn't lose the pin. Unfortunately, the metallic taste was coupled with a dizzying headache that I'm sure would have caused me to pass out if I wasn't laying down. They've got me strapped to a metal gurney which is anchored to the wall, but before I can try to push against the straps, the door opens and two people walk in. I shut my eyes, I may as well pretend to still be unconscious.

"How's he doing?"

"Well, ironically, replacing his leg may have been the fastest fix. He's been unconscious since we picked him up, but he'll go into manic fits at odd intervals."

"Manic fits?"

"We strapped him down because he started screaming and going through convulsions. Sometimes he'll just mess with his hair, sometimes he'll try to strangle himself, and he keeps screaming for the other tribute from his district."

"Is he well enough to be shown?"

"Well, I mean, he may remain unstable throughout his li-"

"_Is he well enough to be shown?_"

"I don't know."

"Well for God's sake, we can't have a Victory Tour without a victor, and it's already been days! People are impatient! Put him on some anesthesia, do whatever you need to do, just get him to be sane for more than an hour so he can go live! Then you can make sure that he doesn't remain 'unstable' for the tour!"

I hear the door close as they leave the room, but I keep my eyes shut even as the footsteps fade away from my hearing. They said something about replacing my leg. I can only guess that it's the one Cato stabbed, and it's true, I can't feel my left leg below the thigh, but if I open my eyes to look at it, I think I'll be sick. And then there's the anesthesia, so I'll be out soon. I can't take this all in right now, I can't think, there's too much to take on and I can already feel the drugs tugging on the fringes of my mind, willing me to just let it all go. Unstable for the rest of my life? I'm just going to be another insane victor, another Haymitch to be the laughing stock of the whole District. But I'm fading away more now, and then I let go.

The next time I wake up, I'm a bit more familiar with my surroundings. It's the same kind of room they had us in when they were first preparing us for the tribute parade. The parade…it feels like the parade was years ago. I try to think back, have I changed since then? Am I still the young baker from District 12, or am I just another Capitol pawn, another tragic victor of their games? Thinking of Katniss, I can't help but think the latter is more likely.

"Hi, Peeta, it's been a while." I look up. It's my old stylist, Portia, and, for now, she's the closest thing I've got right now to a familiar face, but right now I don't know if I can talk without breaking down.

"Hi Portia," my voice falters at the end, and I know she can tell by the way she looks at me. She walks over to give me a hug, but by the way I cringe, anyone could tell that I'm still on edge and damaged from the arena.

She looks down at me, "Peeta. I know the arena can be…difficult, but the best thing you can do right now is just try to forget." Try to forget? I'm just supposed to pretend it never happened? How does she expect me to just throw Katniss away, to pretend that Katniss didn't die for me? And what if I don't want to forget? As much as it may hurt, I would rather die than forget those nights in the cave. Her head on my chest, her hand in mine, after all these years why would I ever willingly let that go? I shake my head. Telling Portia that I refuse to forget might not be the best thing right now.

"Thanks, Portia, I'll do my best."

_Denying me so quickly? _I can hear Katniss whisper in my ear, I can feel her hand rest on my shoulder, she's right behind me. No, she's not. She's not here. She's gone.

"You do that. Now, why I'm here: you know the Victory Tour won't be for a few months, but everyone will still want to see their Victor. Are you feeling up for a bit more of the spotlight?"

"I-…Yeah, I think I can manage." One interview with Caesar can't be all that bad. Even if I'm starting to question my own sanity, the Capitol wouldn't appreciate a Victor who is too ill to make an appearance, seeing as I don't have any visible problems. The next few hours are familiar, to say the least. Chemical baths, waxing, ointments, and always something new. My old prep team seems overly pleased to see me, and I try to reflect their enthusiasm, but honestly, I can't. Maybe I'm just not girly enough to appreciate the Capitol's extreme measures to prepare my appearance, but right now I just want to sleep without having to be thrown into another bath of stinging, noxious chemicals.

But, after hours of being thrown around like a ragdoll, it's over. I'm dressed in a black suit, I don't bother to examine anything other than the jacket and pants, does it really matter? I can finally spit the pin out, though, and after holding onto it for so long, it feels like there's a gaping hole in my mouth. And then I realize, this pin is the _only _thing I have left to remind me of Katniss. The only thing I have to prove that the 74th Annual Hunger Games occurred, that I wasn't alone in that cave, that the girl on fire truly lived.

_Lived…until you caused my death. _She's back.

"Come on, Peeta, we've got to get you to the stage." Portia leads me down an elevator, and then I'm back at the same stage where we shot our initial tribute interviews. "Good luck!" She tells me, and then she's gone. There's a small sign with lit-up numbers counting down.

5...

I put the pin in my pocket.

4…

_Denying me so easily?_

3…

If I wear the pin they'll kill me.

2…

_Traitor! Liar! Murderer!_

1…

I fasten the pin to my shirt, and walk on stage.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, guys! They really mean a lot to me! I'll be sure to update as often as I can, but sorry if it takes a while. Hope you like the story so far!


	3. Chapter 3

"Ahh, welcome back! Welcome back!" Caesar Flickerman's voice rings loudly in my ears, almost hollow because of the sheer amplitude of the echo caused by all the equipment needed to carry his voice throughout the enormous theater. I've got this ridiculous smile plastered onto my face, I know it's fake, it obviously looks fake, but everything in the Capitol is fake. My smile fits right in.

_You're starting to fit right in._

She's still there, invisible to Caesar, to the audience, to the world, but all too real to me. I choke a bit, but I know I need to get through this. "It's good to _be _back!" I say, plastic smile not shifting an inch. I'm nervous, though, I can feel beads of sweat on my forehead, sticking to my hair, and I feel like my words are echoing out into the audience before I even say them. And it's only been a few seconds. Caesar glances down, eyes drawn to the pin, which is, of course, as lustrous as ever. But, to give him credit, he only pauses for a moment and tilts his head, I assume he's receiving orders to escort me off stage, but he merely clears his throat and motions towards two oversized armchairs.

"Well, Peeta," Caesar says, sharing a sympathetic look with the audience, "We're all dying to know: what was running through your mind during those last few minutes in the arena?" I look out into the audience, everyone is leaning forward, I know ever camera must be zoomed in onto my face as citizens throughout the Capitol, throughout all the Districts in Panem, eagerly await an account of the heartbreaking tragedy of the star-crossed lovers from District 12.

"Well, Caesar, I-" I falter. She's crouched next to Caesar's chair, eyes glowing with the fire they'd always had in life. I'm stuttering, scrambling for words, I can't pull my eyes away from her, but she merely tilts her head with a knowing smirk that taunts my apprehension. My fear. _Your guilt._

"Guilt." The word rings out loudly, and the audience lets out a gasp that was obviously cued.

"Please, Peeta," Caesar shares a sympathetic look with the audience, "can you tell us more?"

"Well…" Clearly, I needed to give them something vivid. I wasn't expecting one word to satisfy them, but a simple recount wouldn't do it. I needed to hit them with something cathartic, something powerful, something that would do the girl on fire justice.

But nothing could do her justice.

Nothing could truly describe that fire in her eyes that the Capitol simply couldn't put out. Nothing could describe the passion she had for her sister, that had made her volunteer to take her place at the reaping. And nothing would ever, _could _ever, bring her back to me.

I look back up. Caesar's beginning to eye me warily, like I might go insane in a moment. _Oh, but you already are insane, my love. _I ignore her.

"Imagine everything you are. Not what you own, but your reasons for living, what you truly _care _about. Imagine all of that in one person. You would do anything, and I mean _anything _for them, because they are your everything. People throw around the word 'love' a lot these days, and I'll be honest with you, it's wasted a lot. They say it when they don't mean it, and they don't say it when they do mean it. What I'm trying to say, is that…" I falter again. I was doing well, I could feel their eyes transfixed on me, entranced by the monologue I could expertly weave, but the problem was, she was standing now. She didn't have the knowing smirk anymore, her brows were furrowed and her eyes had locked on mine in a glare that I didn't have the strength to break. "Is that," I begin again, voice clearly shaken, "even though she's gone," she snarls at my rejection of her reality, "our love will never end."

I finish, and the stage is eerily quiet. Caesar still has that suspicious look, but he pats my shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that, and all of our hearts go out to you." It's corny, almost ridiculously so, but I can hear occasional sobs from the audience, and Caesar stands to shake my hand as I'm escorted off stage. While I will never willingly allow myself to become a part of the Capitol, I'm relieved to know that I've made enough of an effect to satisfy them. Except for the pin. The pin that could be my ultimate death. They'll be keeping a close eye on me after that stunt.

I'm given a few minutes to change out of my suit into slacks and a collared shirt, and I take the pin and put it in one of the pockets. But, the minute I walk out of the room, I'm dragged onto a train which speeds out, away from the Capitol. It's painfully similar to the one that initially took us from the Reaping to the Capitol. The train that took me from being the boy who helped her once, to her rejected love interest, and finally, to being one of the star-crossed lovers from District 12. _And it also took me to my death. _Despite the speed of the train, she's still with me. And I feel like that should bring me comfort, I mean, the girl of my dreams is coming back from death and I get to see her. But I can't find solace in her. Her face, as beautifully flawless as ever, haunts me, a harsh, bitter reminder of what I caused. Of the burden that I must carry for my terrible murder.

And that's what it is. Murder.

I lean back in my seat, I'm completely exhausted, and knowing she's nearby makes all the food on the train look unappetizing, so I close my eyes and try to drift away. But, no, that won't be allowed.

"Oh, _Peeta_!" Another shrill, familiar voice cries out. Of course Effie's here.

"Hey, Effie," I manage a small smile, and she rushes over, heels clicking on the wooden flooring of the train, to give me a hug.

"Congratulations Peeta, oh you must feel so _lucky_!" Typical Effie, finding the silver lining that doesn't exist. "I must apologize on Haymitch's behalf, ever since he saw the ending of the Games, he's been back to his usual self. He took several of the bottles from the bar car to his room, so we may not see him until we get back home." I nod, back home…we're going home. Back to District 12. For a moment I relax, the Capitol has cleared me for now, most likely because of my mental state they are giving me a small vacation so I can recuperate. But, I won't be able to rest there. How can I rest, knowing that I killed the love of my life? How can I rest, when everyone there knows I'm a murderer? I can't. Being there may do more harm than good.

"Oh, Peeta, I am _so _happy for you!" Effie's still gushing, even though I never responded to her last few statements. Of course, I don't blame her, having a winner from our District after all these years must be one of the few times she can appreciate her work. "Your parents will be ever so proud!" My parents. I hadn't thought about them. My father, trapped in a marriage with a woman who he never really loved. And my mother, who only believed that Katniss stood a chance in the arena. Who had always hated her son.

I don't like to think about it. And I feel even worse, knowing that I should be gratefulto have her, with how Katniss' father died, and her mother abandoned her and her sister. And most of the District has it as bad, if not worse, than that. Like Effie said, I'm _lucky_. And surviving the Hunger Games is a feat that's nearly unheard of for our District.

I shake my head. Yes, I'm lucky. But I don't feellucky when I realize that I've lost everything that I ever cared about.

_Oh, but you haven't lost me, you can't run away from me, Peeta._

Please…Katniss, I never wanted this to happen!

_Then why did you kill me? Why did you murder me, Peeta?_

I-I-….

I falter. I can't answer her question, and I sink down into the chair, sobbing into my own hands. She's screaming at me, making me feel the full force of what I did, and all I can do is sob and shake my head, covering my ears, trying to shut her out. But I can't shut her out. She's always there.

Eventually she must have stopped, because I wake up, covered in sweat, curled as deeply as possible into the chair. I shake my head, I've got another headache, and when I try to stand the world spins around me as the train continues to hurtle across the land. I look out the window, it's dark out here, no glaring lights to disturb the peace except for the few that line the railway. I take out the pin, it glows brightly in the dim light, perfectly clear and reflective. A radiant pin for a radiant girl…

I grimace, I miss her, but I can't face what I've done.

I can't face…what? My guilt? But I know the guilt is deserved. I'll never forgive myself for what happened to her. I desperately try to sleep, to get a break from the constant stress, but I can't. I keep seeing that last glimpse of her face, hearing her whisper my name for the last time. I get up to find Haymitch. Judging by his alcohol consumption, he doesn't handle his guilt well, but he handles it, and for now I need someone I can relate to.

I walk over to the car with his room, there's no answer, even after I knock for a few minutes. Feeling dejected, I slide down to sit, leaning against the wall, but the smell of rotten alcohol and vomit seeps out from underneath the door, and I trudge away, not sure where to look. I walk by the bar car, figuring he may be there, and in fact, he is. Apparently now that Effie is asleep in her room, he can freely roam the train without having to confront anyone. Well, except for me.

"Hey, Haymitch," My voice sounds pathetic, I clear my throat, but it doesn't make much of a difference. He looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes are bloodshot, and he reeks of bile and liquor. He doesn't say anything, but I can see pain in his cold, grey eyes. When I first really met him, they reminded me of stone. Slabs of stone set in an equally unforgiving face, his emotions killed just as easily as the other tributes in his time in the arena. But they're different now, now they're broken. Unshed tears glint from the light that reflects off the bottles on the shelves, and he still doesn't say anything, but he nods. He knows the pain that her death is bringing, that I would do anything to bring her back. Before we entered the Games, I told him, I wanted to do everything I could to keep her alive, no matter what happened to me, and he agreed to help me. Long hours spent, when I should have been training, we planned how we would convince the Capitol that they should allow both of us to survive, but in the end they wouldn't, and I wish it had been me that died, not her.

He turns back towards the bar, and I slowly inch my way towards my room. I stumble into the bathroom, and I barely recognize myself. My eyes look sunken and hollow, a grimace has been permanently etched onto my expression, and my hair is darker, limper, it's lost its own will to live.

I brush my teeth, I'm not sure why I make myself do it, but I feel like if I don't, I'll slowly waste away like Haymitch. Spending my time trying to forget, trying to pretend it never happened. I pull the pin out again, turning it as light shines off of it and radiates in all directions. I don't know how I'm going to face the District tomorrow, how I'll survive any of this. But, like I said:

I don't want to forget.

x

x

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Sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy, but I should be able to update more often now. I got a few messages from people asking me to cross-post my writing, so I'll be posting them on my tumblr, as well. My username is **justanengineer** if you'd rather read them there, or if for unexplainable reasons you want to see the inner machinations of my mind.

I really appreciate all the reviews and alerts! Seriously, they've been really encouraging, and I appreciate all of them. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

The train stops early in the morning, the sky is dark grey outside, the sun hasn't pierced the clouds yet, and the chill in the air is palpable. Normally people would have started their day by now, the men up in the mine before the sun, and the women had their own front to take care of at home. It's difficult, but it brings people together as a community. Regardless, no one is on their way to work this morning. Not yet, anyways. They've got a stage set up in front of the Justice Building, it's outdoors, nowhere near even a fraction of the size of the one in the Capitol, but I'm glad to be away from everything, even if coming home is painful. There's no applause, no cheering, the event is televised, so I'm sure they'll edit the sounds in, but for now, everyone here knows. There's no three-finger to mouth salute that was given to her, everyone is mourning the girl on fire. At the very least they know that winning truly did not help me, though. Everyone knows that I had loved her ever since the day I had first met her, ever since she had sang, and the whole world stopped. But the Games change everyone, why should I be any different? Why _wouldn't _they believe that I was willing to give her up in order to survive?

The whole day rushes by me, I feel helpless and limp. Earlier I had promised myself not to forget, but I'm beginning to believe that may be all I can do. I'm a puppet, dragged around, put on display, and she's always there. She's always watching me, perched in a tree, or hiding in the shadows. She's all I see, all I hear, and it isn't until finally the sun begins to set and I'm allowed to stagger home, flanked by Peacekeepers. Except I don't really go home.

The Victors' Village, previously with an astounding population of one, Haymitch and I will get along fantastically. My family has already moved into the new house, my brothers are laughing, pleased with their good fortune. My mother doesn't look completely disgusted with me. She actually smiles. It's not a warm, affectionate smile, it's more the smile of a con artist when he finds a particularly wealthy victim. My father is the only one who doesn't look happy. His face is crestfallen, and after my brothers finish asking me about the arena, he asks if I want to go visit the Everdeens.

I say yes. He nods. She smiles. I shudder.

I walk with my father in silence, our boots crunching along the worn dirt path that has acquired a thin layer of ice. My father is blissfully unaware of the girl that walks next to me, the girl whose family we are going to visit. She's right beside me, a third trail of footsteps in the ice when there should only be two.

It's a bit of a walk to the Seam, but you can hear the sobbing coming from the house a mile away. The house oozes grief, you can feel it rise up from the foundation, spilling out through the windows, infecting everyone that goes near, and I get a nauseous feeling in my stomach as my father knocks on the door.

Once.

Twice.

The door swings open, Gale's face is clearly shaken, his eyes are red and puffy, he's been crying. I can see Katniss' mother crying inside, loudly sobbing, and Prim quietly stands by her side, silently letting tears stream down her face. Gale's face quickly transforms from forlorn mourning to bitter hatred. He shoves me, hard, and I stagger back onto the road. My father moves back towards me, but I wave him off, telling him to go outside. I can handle this.

My father gives me a wary look, normally he would never have listened to me telling him to leave like that, but this was different. After the Games, after her death, for once I can truly appreciate my father. But I can't be sentimental right now.

He walks inside, and the door closes, and it's just Gale and me, circling each other with complete hatred in our eyes. I don't blame him for hating me, but I can't explain why I hate him. She's there, too, now, sitting on the front porch laughing. Finally, he stops, hands down at his sides.

"You fucking rich merchant _trash_!" He screams at me. He's on the verge of bawling, his face turning bright red, not from embarrassment, but from utter rage. "How could you do that to Katniss?" He's walking towards me, hands balled into fists. But what do I have to fear? At worst he'd kill me, which would be a welcome end to the guilt, to the pain of her death.

"You think I wanted her to die?"

"You can't even say her name." He's right, I can't do it.

_He was always better than you._

What?

_You don't think we ever did anything? I'd known him for years, Peeta, and how could I not fully _appreciate _the strong, handsome hunter that gave me everything I could ever want?_

Shut up.

_He gave me what you never could. He took care of my family, he brought us food, everybody loves him, and he fucked me so hard. Better than you would have ever been able to._

"I said, _shut up_!" I yell, lashing out. My uppercut hits Gale square in the stomach, and he doubles over cursing me, spitting at my feet. I bring my knee up to his face, there's a sickening crunch as I feel his nose break, and then he's stumbling backwards, blood covering his face and coming out of his mouth.

"You're an animal. You're a fucking animal, you act like you cared about her, but you just used her, you used her so that you could survive. And now you've come back, no guilt, no remorse, you're just here to laugh at us, to show how above the Seam you are, now. Well, I'm telling you, you're not better than us. We don't sell out to the Capitol. We don't let them change us." He finishes by spitting blood onto my boots, and he storms back into the house.

Light spills out through the open doorway, and everyone looks at him in shock. He points outside, yelling something, and they all look outside at me, what I did, what I've become. I shake my head, running off into the dark. This can't be happening. I'm not an animal, I don't thrive with violence. I wasn't going to let them change me. I remember, that night on the roof with her, telling her that I wanted to still be me, that I didn't want to become this.

_And yet, here you are, exactly what you didn't want to become. Hurting Gale won't make your guilt go away._

It's pitch black out, the clouds cover the moon and stars, and there aren't any lights out here. I can't stop shaking. I can't stop the uneven tremors that wrack my body every time I try to breathe. I'm sweating even though it's freezing out, and my eyes are burning, tears dripping from my face to my hands. What have I done? How could I have given up everything like that?

I don't know how long I'm out there, yelling out for an end, curled up in the grass, clawing at the dirt. Pulling at my hair doesn't relieve the pain, screaming at the sky doesn't change time. And then I'm yelling for her. Asking how she could abandon me like this. How she could have just ignored my love so completely. I wanted to give her everything, anything she could ever want, and I just wanted to spend every moment of the rest of my life with her, holding her in my arms. But now that was impossible. It was too late. I'll always regret not walking out in the rain, and now I regret not finding a way to save her.

Katniss…where are you?

Morning light filters through the thin white curtains. They barely block the sun, but they've got these small flower silhouettes designs on them to show that they are, in fact, for show, not for utility. I blearily rub my eyes, then stuff my face back into the pillow, I don't want to get up. Getting up will bring too many memories, too many things that I just can't deal with. Better to just close my eyes…and drift away…

But no, there's a sharp knock on the door, and before I can say anything, my mother's there, shrieking for me to get up, that I've already slept for days. I close my eyes, my name is Peeta Mellark. I survived the 74th Annual Hunger Games. I also killed Katniss Everdeen.

I splash cold water onto my face. We may be part of the merchant class in 12, but getting warm water is still a chore that I don't feel up to. Everything's surprisingly quiet; I expected constant noise, constant reporting on the winning tribute, but there's nothing. Maybe they know that I'm…not all together. I walk downstairs, quickly moving past the dining table and out the back door. I can hear my mother's screams even after I've hastily gone down the block, back towards the Seam.

What am I doing? I wish I knew. I wish I knew anything right now, but everything that I thought I knew was wrong, and everything I learned is dead. I don't know when I started running, but I'm sprinting now, and the plaster buildings give way to wooden houses. I keep running. Coal miners, out on their all too short lunch breaks, are all eating a meager snack to get them through the day. They give themselves the bare minimum, pushing through their own hunger so that their family can be satiated. I feel a lump in the back of my throat and I swallow. Hard. It's not right, 12 should be showered with gifts, food in abundance, but we're still starving. And now they're looking at me, they recognize me. They know what I've done. I hear their curses, the disdain in their voices, and a few of them spit as me as I continue to sprint past. I shut my eyes, I don't care if I run into something. I have to block them out, get away, the guilt is there, you can tell by the way they yell at me. They know that I know I'm a monster. That I'm the one that should have died. That I don't deserve anything, I don't deserve the starched clothes on my back, the food, the adoration of Panem…they know. Soon they'll all know. And they'll realize death would be a reward for me.

And then I smack into the metal fence. I fall flat on my back, stunned for a moment, trying to stop the ringing in my ears. There's no mistaking the voltage sign on the fence, but if it held any legitimacy I'd be dead right now.

_Come on, Mellark, get off your ass._

I tilt my head up. She's there, a cruel smirk splayed across her face. I clumsily get up to face her.

_Don't look at me like that, I did this every day, I think the spoiled baker boy can do it once._

She's right. Of course she's right. And I follow her, past the fence, into the woods. She doesn't walk so much as she glides through the forest, passing her hand over the trees, rocks, this is her home. This is where she thrived. She looks down, smiling, and I follow her gaze. There's a bow hidden in the hollowed out wood, and she gestures for me to take it. She guides me through the forest, having me gather wood, tinder, kindling. And then the fire starts. I don't remember doing that, but there's a fire.

_Burn it._

What?

_All of it. And, for being good, you can throw yourself along with it._

She wants me to burn the bow. I don't know why, but her voice has gotten louder. Covering my ears does nothing to stop it. And I'm sprinting again. I guess I'm running from my problems a lot these days. But I'm tearing through the forest, I'm not like her, I don't glide with the forest, I barge through it, and the tears are streaming down my face, a salty reminder that Peeta Mellark was the one who stepped on that flower. Peeta Mellark broke that branch. Peeta Mellark is a murderer.

And then I'm out, at the fence, through it, back into the district. Back at the Everdeen doorstep. The door opens, and a bleary-eyed Prim opens the door. She looks at me, a new look, a completely hard, cold look.

"Mum doesn't want to talk to anyone," She says flatly. I'm not welcome here. But I take the bow and quiver off my shoulder and hand them to her. She doesn't lose the look for a moment. I don't know what to say. She, not Prim but _her_,she always said I was good with talking, that I was the one who had the real effect on people. Of course she was wrong that time, but right now I can't find a single word. I nod at Prim, and then I've turned to leave. She doesn't call out for me to wait. The door is shut. I'm alone.

I trudge down the dirt path, no intention of going back to the Victors' Village. My family, the District, all of Panem. They've all been shut out. My name is Peeta Mellark, and I'm not playing their games anymore.

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Sorry for the long wait! I haven't been feeling well these past few weeks, but I'm hoping to be more consistent now! Reviews are beautiful.


	5. Chapter 5

_Where are you going?_

I don't know.

_You're lying._

The forest.

_Again?_

Yes.

_You ran away before._

I'm not afraid this time.

And this time, I'm not. My boots crunch loudly as they shatter fallen leaves, the flakey remnants broken reminders that I exist. That this is real. That this isn't just some sick, twisted imagination conjured from the stress of the Games. I'm not afraid to die. But that doesn't mean I'm ready.

As I walk through the forest, she spins me around, pinning me up against a tree. She's got her left hand pushing against my throat, holding me there. I can't breathe.

_You think I'd just let you die? Just like that? That I'd just let you go!?_

No.

_You killed me, Peeta. You. Killed. Me. What am I to you? The girl you could never have? Your only love? Your fellow tribute? Your enemy?_

Katniss…

_And now you finally get the courage to say my name? You're just guilty. Poor Peeta Mellark, victor of the 74__th__ Annual Hunger Games, it must really be terrible! And you seeing me is just your sick way of feeling like you're being punished. Like once I'm gone, your punishment will be over, and you can live guilt-free._

Katniss, I can't let go of you because you're all I have. My family's gone, I don't have any friends, the Capitol is one wrong move away from killing me, what do you expect? For me to just forget you? Because I don't want to forget. I'm not going to. Even if it means I have to die.

And then she releases me. _I missed you, Peeta. _She pulls me closer to her, and it's like we're back in the arena. But without the fear. We can…live normal lives. I smile, as she buries her face in my shoulder, and I finally feel the weight of the past being lifted from my shoulders. She grabs my hand and pulls me back towards the district.

The whole way, we talk, laugh; we're happy. I love her, and she loves me. The people on the road stare at us as if we are insane, but they've never known this happiness. They've never known what it's like to be free. We run into my house, and she grabs a coil of rope while I recall the memory of her sitting out in the rain. And then we're gone again, back into the forest, we'll be alone, no one to bother us. To be honest, I don't care where we go, as long as I'm with her. That sounds terribly cliché, but it's true. There's no other way of putting it, I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

We sit in a small clearing, and she fiddles with the rope while telling me about all the times she went out hunting, and I sit, unable to take my eyes off of her. I've missed her. Up again, we're climbing a tree, and it's a slightly painful reminder of that panicked moment in the arena, where I couldn't stop the Careers from pursuing her. And then we climb down, she's not holding the rope. As if she knows what I'm thinking, she points back up to the low-hanging branch we sat on, the rope hanging down, tied to the branch. But now it's a noose. She's balanced a narrow block of wood below it.

What…

_Come on, Peeta._

But why…

_Don't you love me?_

Yes, but…

_Then why don't you want us to be together?_

I just…I do, but…why not now? Why can't we live her?

_You'll grow old, you'll die, and I want us to be together, now. Like this._

Katniss…I…

And I'm sobbing, but I step up onto the block, and carefully tighten the noose around my neck. And I shut my eyes, it'll be over soon. And she kisses my cheek, and whispers in my ear, _I'll see you soon, Peeta. _And I wish I could say something, but I'm still waiting for the painful jolt. And then I hear the thump of the wood block falling over before I feel my neck snap. I slam down onto my back. Something hits me in the chest. I black out.

I'm afraid to open my eyes. I don't know what I'll see. Will it be her? And that thought makes me want to try. It's dark out, and I don't dare move as my eyes slowly adjust. Something's still on my chest, and it takes me a moment to realize it's the branch, with the rope still tied to it. The noose is still around my neck, and I pull it off. She's gone. I call out. No response. And even though I know I should be happy to be alive, the tears still stream down my face. I still sob, screaming for her to come back to me. It's too much, she's left me alone here. I loved her. I did. I loved…and then I have to pause for a moment.

I loved the thought of her.

And that notion is what makes me get up and walk back towards District 12. Back to the bakery. Back home. But, I won't forget.

I'll always remember the girl on fire.


End file.
